Scattered Oblivion
by Ari Rue
Summary: Nagi Naoe is stuck in the hospital after the tower's collapse and Brad Crawford is forced to come to terms with a past he left behind. Can Schwarz pick up the pieces, or will Eszet find them and scatter them to the wind?
1. Chapter 1: On the Surface

Scattered Oblivion

  
  
Author: Ari   
  
E-Mail: RedYume@aol.com   
  
Notes: Thank you Geri! On another note- this fic is directly post series. Hope you all like it.   
  
  
Dawn broke cold and misty over the shoreline of Tokyo Bay, typical for early autumn. No clouds hung in the sky, lifeless save for a mix of white gulls and black crows, spattered against the flat gray. They cawed and cried in the early light, noisily hailing the frigid coming of another day. For them, this day was like the last and so many before it. For birds never wondered about the dealings of men. They didn't count the people down on the rocky beach nor did they watch the boats cross the bay. Birds only worried about flight and food, and even that was only when it suited them. Otherwise, they worried about nothing, and this day was as nothing as the rest.  
If the gulls and crows had been of a different mind, if they had cared to watch the world around them, they would have noticed the sunken tower off the pier. It had been standing bright and tall the day before with people milling about it, wanting to catch sight of the artwork inside. But now it was only a crumbled heap of stone and statuary at the bottom of the bay. The only remaining artwork lay atop the waves, bobbing and sailing with the tide, ink running and paint fading to nothing.  
That night many things had become nothing. Eszet had fallen to their enemies and to their followers. Blades found their marks in the Elders, freeing some from slavery, and dooming others to oblivion. In the end, the complex network Eszet had worked so hard to erect, became nothing. Schwarz, who had followed Eszet, fell as the floor crumbled beneath their feet. That night everything ended in darkness, hushed by the inky waters of the sea.  
Bodies dotted the otherwise clear water, swaying in the current, going wherever the water pushed them as the sky turned pink. The sun was rising in earnest, and soon someone would notice the wet masses in the water. Police and paramedics would arrive in a whir of lights and sirens. People would throng to the pier and watch the happenings from above. The scene, so dead in the early light, would be shattered by humanity. For people, unlike birds, worried. For humanity hated when things became nothing.  
Boats cut through the water like sharks that morning, slashing white scars in their wake. Four of them, all looking for survivors, picking up the drowned. So far they had found two dead, an elderly couple from what they could tell, killed in the tower's collapse. They didn't have any identification as of yet, but they would get that at the morgue.   
Officer Marcus leaned over the railing of the small vessel, scanning the waters carefully. The first two bodies were found near the north end of the bay, where the tide had taken them. Marcus couldn't understand why he had been ordered to the Southern end, searching an area the tide ran from rather than to. But he searched with no less diligent effort than the officers across the bay. Orders were orders.  
Marcus squinted as the boat turned east, into the morning sun. He held his hand against his brow to lessen the glare, but took it down when he saw a flash of white in the water. In an instant they were past it. "Turn around! Make another pass."  
The boat swung in a wide circle, making a crested wave on the turn's outer flare. Passing back over the same area, Marcus zeroed in on the white object. "There!" he pointed at it. "There's something there!"  
The boat wove around the finding, turning off its engine as it came to rest near the lump in the water. Marcus' partner, Greer, frowned deeply. "Another body."  
Marcus ignored him, grabbing a hooked pole from the inner rail. He couldn't tell what it was yet, but he hoped it wasn't a corpse. He snagged the hook over a fold in the white material that covered the bobbing mass, pulling the pole back toward him. As soon as it turned in the water it was clear that Greer was right. It was another body.  
Brown hair waved softly in the salty water as a pale face turned up and as it neared the boat, arms floated up innocently from their previously tucked position. What they had seen was the back of his white jacket, breeching the water's surface.   
Marcus sighed, pulling the body against the side of the vessel. This would bring the body count to three. Greer wasted no time, pulling the communicator from its wall holder. "This is Coastal Two, repeat Coastal Two, over."  
"This is Coastal HQ, we read you Coastal Two, over," came the crackling reply.  
"We have another victim here, over."  
Marcus leaned far over the rail, grabbing an arm so he could hoist the body aboard. They needed to give HQ a description and see if the body had any identification on it so they could begin processing. Despite the water, the body was incredibly light. As he pulled upward and grabbed the other arm, he realized why. The victim was a young man, still very much a boy, small and lean.  
Greer continued, "Yeah, a young male, light build, Asian, brown hair, approximately five feet three inches, wearing a white tuxedo and dress shoes,"  
Water dripped freely from his hair and clothes, almost like tears where it trickled from his eyelashes as Marcus dragged him aboard. Marcus' mind wandered, disturbed by the youth in front of him. He had a son, not so very far in age from this boy. He was sure there were worried parents somewhere in the city. He did not want to be the one to tell them their boy was dead. As he thought he readjusted his grip, letting his hands encircle the youth's wrists. He immediately regretted it as the wet skin slid from his grasp and deposited the body unceremoniously on the deck.  
The boy landed hard on his stomach and water poured from his mouth in a gush. Both officers were amazed to hear a wet cough emanate from the boy, followed by another surge of water.   
Marcus knelt beside the boy, reaching around his chest to hold him up. Eyelids fluttered rapidly as alternating gasps for air and heaving chokes of water shook him violently. "Get us to shore, now!" Marcus ordered.   
"HQ, we have a live one. Requesting Paramedics, over."  
"Roger, Coastal Two. Paramedics are waiting on shore, over."  
"Coastal Two out."  
"HQ out."  
Greer cut back to shore in record time as Marcus assessed the boy's condition. There were several minor abrasions and a couple of dark bruises, but those were unimportant in comparison to the amount of water he had taken in. Involuntary spasms drawing water from the boy's lungs continued most of the way to shore, leaving the ship's deck soaked with it. When the worst of it was over, the boy pushed Marcus away with staggering strength. After that he lay on his side against the deck, breathing in ragged whining gasps. His eyes opened partially, staring at the wet deck beneath him. Slivers of dark blue irises circling wide pupils searched the ground. Marcus couldn't tell if the boy was conscious or not, but he was alive.   
  
  
  
Nagi Naoe floated weightless in a dream, limp and weak. All he could do was listen to the dampened sounds around him. First there were sirens in the distance, and heavy currents pulling on his body. And cold, there was an ever present cold about him. He assumed that he must be dead, or close to it. It didn't matter really. It was all over anyway. This life hadn't been that good of a run at any rate. Its end was unimportant.  
The dream shattered as gravity seized him once more, tossing him to the floor. After that there was an urgent need to breathe, and a nauseating feeling that he couldn't. The rest was a blur of vomiting and gasping for air, bright sunlight, voices all around him, people moving in close, suffocating him. Eventually, mercifully, bleak unconsciousness overtook him. It was more absolute than the dream, and he welcomed it.   
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2: The Bottom of the Bay

Author's Note: For those of you who had this story on alert… I am so, so, so sorry it has taken me THIS long to do anything with it. For those of you who are just tuning in, I haven't worked on this story since 2003. That is like 7 years ago. Yeah, wow, I know… I practically and for all intensive purposes abandoned this piece. But muses don't sleep forever, though sometimes it feels like they may try. Welcome to chapter 2. I promise to post regularly… it's not like I could post any more irregularly. 2003… holy cat dookie it's been a long time.

As a PS to the anime continuation- Gluhen… it wasn't awful, but it wasn't particularly good either. The story was short, disjointed, and almost as poorly animated as the original. Then there is the character design to consider… it was terrible. For those of you who have not seen it, I really recommend that you don't. Aya looks lovely… not anything like he should, but yummy. And everyone else? Well… it kinda feels like they al worked at the same cheap male strip joint and went to play assassins in their off time… in their "work clothes". Not that they were scantily clad (I know, collective pout), but it was so terribly gaudy and- ok, I am off topic. Never mind. This storyline pretends the train wreck of Gluhen isn't going to happen. Or if it does…. Did, whatever- the lovely bishies of WeiB and Schwarz would be of sound character design and costume. Please enjoy the extremely long overdue 2nd chapter of Scattered Oblivion.

Scattered Oblivion: Chapter 2

Sol gazed up at the motorboat as it sped overhead, casting a fleeting shadow along the sea floor on its way back to shore. The wake frothed angrily behind like a dragon tail, dipping down to push the craft forward. From her vantage point she saw the boy lifted from the water and hoped that her efforts to revive him had worked. She hadn't had a lot of time to be careful- just a quick jolt to his heart. Not her preferred mode of operation. But his internal injuries meant he needed hospitalization. The broken shoulder, the fractured pelvis, the broken hand- each would have taken her hours to repair on her own. It was better to let him go.

She turned her attention back to the massive pile of rubble before her. Trying to determine the best way to pick through it, she began shifting a few stones. Air bubbles immediately began to escape upwards from the pockets they had been trapped in. She watched them go, gritting her teeth as they spiraled up. It was a good sign that there were more survivors in the spaces left between the rocks. However, if too many reached the surface at once she was afraid someone would notice. A quick scan of the surface showed no boats above her. She had a little time before they would be back from their trip to shore.

Taking a deep breath, Sol moved a chunk of marble the size of a freight container from the top of a pile, cursing as a large jellyfish-like air bubble wobbled upward with dozens of smaller brethren. Hopefully no one would notice.

Her worry was quickly replaced with relief as a familiar figure thrashed into view. "Brad!", she called plaintively, reaching for him.

Her air bubble warbled in protest as her concentration was broken, losing its shape and letting some water in. She only made it worse as she moved toward him, tripping over the rock littered ground. "Brad stop!"

Crawford struggled toward the surface, kicking frantically as the water swirled around him. He had been safe in the air pocket left from the collapse. Besides a few bruises and a splitting headache, he had been exceptionally lucky. When the rocks above him shifted, all he could think of was making it to the top.

His clairvoyance had not served him well the night before and his glimpses of the future dodged in and out. The future had changed from moment to moment, making it very difficult to know what to do next to keep it in plan. In the end, as everything fell apart, he realized he was going to die.

When he felt something grab his ankle he panicked. He could see the daylight above, he could make it! He tugged his leg up, only to find whatever had a hold of it was not going to let go. He looked down, kicking with his other leg to free himself. He couldn't see the future, but knew staying down in the depths would mean he'd drown.

Sol glared up at Brad in annoyance as he kicked her hand away, "That hurt, you punk!"

With a hard pull, she encircled his entire body with her force, bringing him back down to eye level. Their eyes met, hers dark and focused, his wide and afraid. It took a lot to catch Bradly Crawford off guard, but a girl at the bottom of Tokyo Bay in an air bubble, keeping him from the surface, did a good job of it.

Sol pushed off the jagged piece of statue she had perched herself on, dropping slowing back to the bottom. She kept a tight hold on Brad, pulling him with her. He stood frozen in shock, dark hair wild. He randomly wondered where his glasses had gone off to, almost as if having them would make the entire scene make sense. The logical side of him refuted that no, glasses or no glasses, this was really weird.

When Sol felt the soft sand beneath her feet she expanded her bubble, depositing Brad roughly inside.

Crawford tried to regain his composure as he quietly coughed up the water which had found its way in. He really wanted to expel the water more thoroughly, but it was enough that he was at the mercy of someone else. A feeling he did not relish.

He looked up at the girl, letting his face fall back to its usual expression of composure and control. He had the feeling he still looked a bit like a drowned cat, his fine clothes sticking to his cold body and his hair plastered to his head. She looked right back him, almost like a mirror. Her expression was calculated, serious, like she was waiting for him to say something. Her eyes were light hazel, like milk and coffee, angled softly against dark lashes and slim brows. Her hair was short and dark, with the front angled sharply down, framing her face. The back was cut short, almost like a boys, trimmed neatly at the nape of the neck. Her jaw line was refined and sharp, as was her nose. She looked strangely familiar.

"Do I know you?" he asked, trying to sound casual. He went to push his glasses up on his nose, a nervous cover up, only to find his glasses weren't there.

"It has been a long time, Brad." She replied. "But I didn't think it's been so long that you would have forgotten about me."

"So I am supposed to know you?"

"You could say that. But I guess we'll have to talk about this later." She turned back to the sunken building. "How many of you are there?"

"Excuse me?"

She pointed at the piles of rock, "How many people were trapped in there?"

Brad tried to chuckle, coughing up a bit of water instead, "Total, there were fourteen in that death trap. Who knows who made it out."

Sol sat down heavily on the sand, sighing. "That is a lot of digging."

Crawford was thoroughly confused, "Why exactly are you here, who are you?"

Sol got up and moved another large chuck of debris from the largest pile. "Can we talk about this later?"

"I really would rather talk about it now. Especially considering everyone else is most likely dead. You're wasting your time."

"The police found two old people, dead of course. And I already found a kid- he was dead too, but I fixed that. He's on his way to the hospital."

"A kid…" Crawford looked thoughtful. It was either Nagi or Omi. "What did he look like?"

"Young wet and dead? I don't know, brown hair, thin?"

That didn't tell Crawford what he needed to know. "What was he wearing?"

"A white suit."

She had found Nagi, dead. But then she said he was on his way to the hospital. This girl didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. "So he was dead?"

"Yes, he WAS dead."

"But now he isn't dead? So he's ok?"

"I think that is up for discussion. I would hardly call him 'ok'."

Sol pushed a more stones off the main pile, watching as the bubbles swirled around the pieces on their way up. She looked up, noticing the search and rescue boats had not passed back over the wreckage. "This is taking too long."

"What are you looking at?" Crawford asked, following her gaze up.

"They've had a search crew out all morning. I don't see them now."

"If you're worried about them seeing you move this mess around, I wouldn't."

She looked at him, unconvinced.

"This isn't a lake. The waves will cover more than you think."

She shrugged, getting ready to change her approach, "I don't really have much time left to play here anyway. This bubble won't last forever with two of us in it."

Sol sent a shockwave out in front, blowing the pile of wreckage apart. She did her best to suspend the bits as they fell to avoid crushing anyone she unearthed. "I don't see anyone."

She shoved all the debris into a new pile and sent out another wave, blowing a smaller pile completely apart. She pushed the rocks around, looking for anyone beneath them. "No one,"

Crawford watched as the air bubble quaked and deformed with each wave. Whatever powers this girl had to keep them alive down there, they were finite and starting to be taxed. He reached out and touched the bubble's edge, drawing back as he realized there was nothing between them and the cold ocean. "How exactly are you keeping us alive?"

She blasted another side pile, "By not letting the water in to drown us." She said flatly. "You're supposed to know the future Brad, wouldn't you already know all about this?"

Brad stopped cold. How did she know about his powers? She had her own, sure, and she was here saving his ass, but that really didn't explain anything, "Are you part of Eszet?"

"Of course not," she replied dryly. "If I was, wouldn't you know who I am?"

She had a point. If she was part of the Eszet network, and she was stationed in Japan, he would have known. He looked up at the turbulent waves on the surface and decided a subject change was in order, "That may actually be noticeable. How much longer are you going to keep this up?"

"Just a few more minutes. I don't think we're going to find any nine bodies here. Do you think they got out?"

"I'm sure some of them did, but not the ones I'm concerned about." He said. "I was right near them when this whole thing collapsed in on itself."

Sol let one more blast wave loose, scattering the final pile of debris. It shot away from them with greater speed than she anticipated. "Too much power." She hissed, working to keep her bubble up.

Crawford pointed outward, "There!"

Farfarello's body shot away from them with the debris, leaving a dark cloud of blood in his wake. He looked like a thrown rag doll, limp and lifeless in the forced current. Sol could barely make him out as he sailed backward, clouded by the blood and sand. She reached out with her powers to grab him, pulling him back through the broken bits that had been the art hall.

As soon as her grip clasped his pale form she knew, "He's dead, Brad."

"Yes, it looks that way," came the dark reply. It was about what Crawford had expected, given the building had come down on top of them. He had been exceptionally lucky, even beyond his own clairvoyant expectations. He couldn't have placed himself better if he had known the outcome. It wouldn't have made sense that they all had been so fortunate. Nagi was on his way to the hospital. Crawford didn't know if that meant with sirens or without.

The girl was so cryptic. Eszet's elders were all dead, he knew that before the tower had collapsed. Farfarello looked like a broken doll in the water and Schuldig- there was no sign of him at all. Then again, there was no sign of Weiss either. They were probably buried where the girl couldn't get to them, or something like that. From the way the bubble was shivering against the water told him this would be the last body- friend of foe, they would recover.

Farfarello's body came through the side of the bubble, coming to lie softly on the sand. His skin was a mottle of bloodless white and purple bruising and though his limbs pointed in mostly the right direction, it was clear there were breaks- a lot of them. Blood was pooling in the sand beneath him from an unseen wound, which was a bad sign for all involved.

"We can't stick around, Brad. There's going to be sharks from this."

"Do we just leave the body?" Crawford asked.

"No, we can fix this. But he needs to go to a hospital once I get done."

"We can't take him," he replied quickly, "I don't want to get into the particulars, but if there's anything to be done, it has to be done without paperwork."

Sol looked at him with a puzzled look, "It's a lot of work."

"If you can't do it, we can just leave the body here," Crawford paused, looking down at the corpse, "He's already dead."

"Fine, we'll do it your way." She growled, "But we can't do it all down here. When I'm done, pick him up and let's get out of here."

Crawford took a step back as the girl put her hands on Farfarello's chest, tracing her fingers along his ribs and against the sides of his neck. She closed her eyes in concentration, "He's totally fucked up," she whispered, "It's like just about everything on him is broken. And there's a really deep cut in his side. That's going to take stitches."

Crawford looked warily beyond the bubble, wondering if the shifting shadows he was looking at were just plays of sunlight, or sharks which had caught the scent of blood on the water. "If you can do something, that's great. But it seems stupid to save him if we're all going to be killed by sharks."

Sol seemed to not be listening, "Uh huh. Just pick him up when I'm done. I can't keep the bubble up and move him too."

"Yeah," Crawford, quite sure that he saw the passing shape of a hammerhead. Inwardly he thought it terribly ironic that he could make it through all he had in his life, only to end up dinner for one of the oceans most mindless killers.

The bubble shivered violently, moving back and forth with the current beyond it as if it would collapse all together. It was very difficult to keep it up and work on the broken man beneath her fingers.

It was a sloppy job and she knew it, but a few ties here and there to slow the blood loss, some stabilization on key bones and then finally the jolt to the heart and brain. It was basic, even crude, but time wasn't on her side.

With the final jolt Farfarello coughed violently, spilling a mouthful of blood on to the sand beneath him before jerking onto his side and vomiting. Seawater mixed with blood gushed from his lungs, splashing over his hands as he tried to hold himself. Sol helped him gently with her powers, but time was on an ever shorter leash. She could tell he wasn't at all conscious, his body just needed to get air.

Blood dripped from his chin as he took a few shallow breaths. There was a loud rattle with each inhale, followed by a sickly gurgle as he exhaled. Crawford felt his stomach churn. It was painfully obvious that Farfarello should not be able to live with the injuries he sustained. This girl was freaky in what she did; like some zombie resurrecting mad scientist.

"Pick him up and be careful." She ordered, "I only fixed what I had to. He's really fragile."

As if in a daze, Crawford picked his comrade up. He could feel bones shift and scrape as he cradled him and wondered why it was they were attempting to save him. Dead was dead, dead was normal. This, was not normal.

"Follow me," Sol said, heading toward the pier pylons in the distance. They were little more than some dark blurry columns, but Crawford knew them by location, "They shouldn't see us coming up over there."

Farfarello was leaden in his arms and he shifted the other man's weight clumsily. Trying to make him more manageable seemed impossible. His arms and legs were lean, but very long. He was not a small man and he was almost all muscle.

Crawford could smell the blood as it rubbed against his wet clothes. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him, and Farfarello was known for damaging himself on a regular basis. But this was different. This was dead blood and it smelled particularly foul. He looked at the girl in front of him as she walked purposefully toward the pier. Other than faint signs of fatigue, all she had done seemed to not phase her. He wondered what else she would do, or what else she could do, to repair Farfarello. As he shifted his gaze to the man in his arms he realized it was quite a feat that he was alive at all- that either of them were. Farfarello still looked dead, though he could feel his shallow expanse of his chest as he breathed.

When they breached the surface of the water, Crawford gently set Farfarello down in the dark recess of the pier's base, "Now that we aren't in mortal peril from sharks or drowning," he stated, regaining his calm unreadable composure, "I'll ask you again, who are you?"

Sol looked up at him with an equal coolness, gingerly arranging Farfarello's limbs so she could better work on him. It unnerved him to have his own mental walls used against him, she was sure. "You would think that after ten years you'd recognize me, Brad."

"Well I don't, and while I'm grateful to be out of that underwater grave, I'm tired of playing this game."

Sol pointed at him accusingly, "You left me with Mom and Dad, Bradley. You left me to try to make them happy after you lost one fight, ONE fight! You fucking disappeared and left me there. Do you know who I am now? DO you!?"

Crawford's blood turned to ice in his veins. He could feel the prickle in his hands and feet with an immediacy which scared him. How had she tracked him down, WHY had she tracked him down!? "Selene?"

"I don't go by that name anymore, but yeah. Hi big brother, nice to see you. Glad you're doing well, thanks for not writing." It was with sour notes she continued, "You were their shining star, the talented one, the special one. But when you left and I wasn't in your shadow, it all fell on me."

"How did you find me?" he asked shakily, afraid to sit down, rooted to the ground. "Why did you find me?"

Sol continued to work on Farfarello, carefully turning his head to the side while she fused bits of bone and ligaments back together, "Does it really matter?"

There was a long silence between them, heavy and brooding. She was bitter and it was obvious, but she had saved him, which meant she didn't totally hate him. Then there were her powers to consider- powers… "Selene, how did you DO all that?" Last time he had seen her was over a decade ago, and she had no abilities whatsoever. She couldn't see the future like him, she couldn't move things, couldn't read minds, she could barely manipulate people on a normal level! Academics didn't even come easily to her. She was normal in every way, deficient even in some areas. "Where did all that come from?"

"When you aren't the special one," she began, moving to unbutton Farfarello's jacket and get a better view of the gash in his side, "and the special one leaves, you figure out how to make yourself special- or you die trying."

"So. . . you…?"

"Despite how much I'm sure it'd be easier for you if I was… I am not dead." She spat. "I just figured out how to make 'special' work. Not before our fucked up parents killed themselves in a romantic flurry of 'our beloved son is gone!', but whatever."

"So the folks are-"

"Yeah, and I don't want to talk about it with you of all people, especially not right now."

Crawford looked at Farfarello. He looked so pitiful propped against the rocks, so terribly still. "How's he doing?"

"Considering he was dead thirty minutes ago, I would say he is doing fabulously. From an objective standpoint though, he's all sorts of smashed up and I can't fix it all at once without killing myself. With any luck he'll be up and around in a few months."

"Months…" Crawford rolled the idea around his mind. It wasn't like they had a place to go back to. Their Eszet stronghold was not a good idea, Takatori's apartments were not a good idea either.

"You can stay with me. I have a place about an hour outside the city."

She had replied to his thought, which brought a whole new wave of unnerving thoughts to mind, "How did-"

"I know you don't like being kept in the dark, but I'm tired as it is and it will be another hour until I'm anywhere close to making it so we can move him safely." She paused, letting out a heavy breath, "So please, let's just get this done. We can talk tonight or tomorrow, or whenever."

Crawford swallowed the lump in his throat. The night before had been crazy, but this whole new series of events was even harder to wrap his head around. It was all too much and it was making him feel sick. "It's good to see you," he said so quietly he was afraid she didn't hear.

"It's good to see you too, brother." She mumbled. "I missed you, a lot."


End file.
